Gears of the Great Crusade
by Exiled Adrian
Summary: AU After learning that he is adopted, Miguel Gears is suddenly transported to the universe of Warhammer 40k. There, he is mysteriously selected to train under the nineteen Primarchs of the Space Marine Legions. He learns the values of each Legion, as well as important lessons. But the Heresy is coming. And time is running out. The Horus Heresy is coming. on hiatus
1. Prologue

Gears of the Great Crusade

_( I do not own Warhammer 40,000 or the novels)_

_Soldiers,Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force!You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely._  
_...I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!_

_-General Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF)_  
_( I do not own this, I pasted this from abeline/ikespeech/html.)_

_Prologue _

_Forge World Binaris_

_950.M41_

_"Brothers! Pour the Emperor's vengeance upon these heretics!" _Brother-Sergeant Hephae bellowed onto the vox channel. Tactical Squad Forgis fired their boltguns upon the oncoming horde of Traitor Astartes. Across the hallway of the chamber, the heretics rushed to meet them, firing their crude weapons at gigantic vault behind them opened slightly. But it was large enough for two Astartes to go through, shoulder to shoulder.

"Astartes! Get inside! Quick!" A half- robotic voice cried out. It sounded partially mechanical and robotic. Sounded like the Techpriest did his job. Vaukner fired the last few rounds of his boltgun.

"I don't have any left, I'm out!" he said over the channel.

"Who else has no ammunition left?" Hephae asked. Five others reported their depleted ammunition. Vaukner unsheathed his combat knife and readied himself for a close combat fight.

"Fall back, Iron Hands! Fall back- but take these heretics down with you as you go! Two by two!" Hephae ordered.

"Aye, Brother-Sergeant." Vaukner and his battle brothers replied. A lifetime of war and training had prepared him for this. Vaukner honestly could testify that he had faced every kind of enemy under the sun and killed them outright with his bare hands with iron vengeance. None would dare harm the family that he had been raised with for most of his known life-and live.

The last rounds were fired as the Imperial Fists battle squad retreated. Vaukner now that he saw the heretics he recognized that they were Word Bearers. They had crimson armor that was the darker shade of crimson. The devices on their backs gave him the impression of demon bat wings.

"Brother Vaukner! Fall back, now!" Hephae roared.

"Aye, Brother Sergeant. Emperor protects!" Vaukner said. He dropped his combat knife, grabbed it by its blade-tip with just his forefinger and thumb, and then threw it straight forward. He watched as it spun and then hit a Word Bearer in the chest. The wounded heretic staggered backwards and then stopped. He chuckled as he withdrew the blade. Vaukner then ran with Brother Naile into the vault as the second group.  
He heard a cry as he went inside. He stopped and peered out. Bolts were flying everywhere and it was now heavily one-sided. They were getting closer.

Hephae half-dragged half-carried Brother Aldenon into the vault as Vaukner went back inside. The inside of the Sacred Vault appeared to be brightly lit. Vaukner paid no attention to the artifacts as he and eight other Astartes pulled the gigantic door. Hephae helped pull after setting Naile against the wall. The door closed just as the shadows of the Word Bearers came into view from the small cracks.

The door sealed. Vaukner sighed as he heard the yelling and banging that was muffled outside.

"Go back to the Eye of Terror," He muttered, shaking his head. Things seemed truly hopeless. Emperor-knew-how many Traitor Astartes outside, little ammunition left, and nine fully able Astartes. It was considered the stuff of legends, but it was grim should anyone know the first-hand accounts.  
And the nature of this mission had been odd, even as half of a full company was sent to this world to help defend ancient relics that-in the wrong hands- could mean the destruction of many, many worlds in the Imperium. Techpriest Enginseer Alanus Vashir could testify to that.

The brothers were looking at the relics that were placed in here. They had... not unfamiliar comments.

"We came here for this?!" Naile bellowed with disdain as he looked at one relic in particular. Vaukner looked at it. He thought of how it had all ultimately begun millennia ago... long before this period of history as well as other beginnings.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Ralton, Georgia  
United States of America  
_

_Earth_

_2013_

Miguel Gears's day began with the usual routine: cleanup, breakfast, school, and homework. What made the day unusual was this incident

"Miguel, you know that I love you, right?"_ Abuelo _Diego asked after sitting down.

Miguel stopped eating his granola bar at the dining room table and swallowed before replying.

_"Si, Abuelo," _he said, uncertain of what was happening.

His gray-blue eyes noticed the tan folder underneath_ Abuelo's _arms. Diego's blue eyes locked onto Miguel's own._ Abuelo's _thin and wiry frame contrasted with Miguel's toned and muscular body. Diego had short gray hair to mark his life's experience whereas Miguel had short jet black hair.

"Is it about your health?" Miguel asked with concern.

"No, I am fine."_ Abuelo_ smiled sadly. Miguel scratched his hair.

"It is... about your birth,_ mi chico_," Diego said, leaning forward. Miguel jerked his head back in surprise.

"My birth? What- I was C-section?" he joked in his Southern accent._ Abuelo_ held Miguel's hand.

"No, not like that,"_ Abuelo_ said, shaking his head.

"Then, what?" Miguel asked._ Abuelo _hesitated before continuing.

"Your 'father' and I wanted to talk to you about this. Were he alive... God rest his soul,"_ Abuelo _said. Miguel shook his head in confusion.

_'Dad knew something? What? What is it?' _Miguel thought.

"What is it,_ Abuelo_? W-what's going on?" Miguel asked_. Abuelo_ sighed.

"I truly don't know how to put it but- Angela, _Dio_ bless her heart, did not give birth to you,"_ Abuelo_ said, solemnly.

"What? Are you saying I'm a bastard?" Miguel asked, shocked.

"We never knew, because-"_ Abuelo_ sighed.

"What?" Miguel asked, insistent.

"-Because, Alan found you while he was on duty in Japan,"_ Abuelo _said. Miguel scoffed.

"You're kidding, right? So, I'm supposed to be a Japanese bastard?"

"You're not a bastard, Miguel. What I'm saying is-"_ Abuelo _sighed as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair_. _

"Well- what is it?" Miguel demanded, his voice rising. He had a gut feeling in his stomach.

"-You're adopted, Miguel,"_ Abuelo _admitted, sincerely. Miguel blinked._ Abuelo_ nodded, solemnly as Miguel released his grip. He put his hands on his head as the shock tore in.

"Alan and I wanted to tell you this when you were ready."

_"Well, does now look like when I'm ready?! The hell are you telling me all this for?!"_ Miguel yelled in disbelief.

"Miguel, calm down,"_ Abuelo_ said, opening the folder.

"We wanted you to know this, because we love you and we knew you wanted to ask about where you truly came from,"_Abuelo _added in a paternal tone. Miguel stood up.

_"Love me? You're telling me-" _Miguel snatched the folder and held it up furiously_._

_"-that you adopted me, lying to me my whole life-because you loved me? Merde, Abuelo!" _Miguel slammed the folder down onto the table.

"Your_ padre_, though adopted, still loved you, Miguel," Abuelo said.

_"You're not my real _abuelo_! And he wasn't my real _padre_!" _Miguel yelled at the old man, turning from him. He was exasperated at this. He hear

"Miguel..." Diego sadly said as he rose from his seat. He put a hand on Miguel's shoulder.

"-just because that you have a different origin than others, does not mean that you can't have a family. No matter, where you come from, you will always have a_ familia_ to support and love you... just as Alan, Angela, and I have done for you." Miguel put the hand down and spun to look at the old man angrily in the face. This old, withered man that had raised him for most of his life... it was a fake! His hands curled into fists

"I'm going out," he said, angrily. He turned around and walked down the hallway, passing a photo of an aged and proud Marine Sergeant Major in his service uniform.

XXX

The table was set. Four squads of ten Astartes each and two twin las-cannon mounted Predator tanks were on the left side of the table. The settings were made like a ruined city district with bombed out buildings, debris everywhere, and even a battered Arbites precinct. Miguel leaned over the table as he looked at the battlefield. Across from him was a laid-back black woman that had a slender, attractive body. She wore a solid green tank top with black leg warmers.

Her brown eyes observed him with an inquisitive and fiery attitude. She had mocha-brown skin and long dreadlocks. Gears observed his enemy's positions. He lost more than half of his Gray Marine Battle Company to her Salamanders and their Land Raider Redeemer. That fucking thing took out his two Rhinos, four Predators, and his last missile-launcher-wielding Marine with an overwhelming salvo. Son of a bitch, she was putting on some heat.

"Alright, _chica_," he said, scratching his neck.

He decided to go with a shitty-ass plan for this shitty-ass battle. Nothing better came up as the shock of the revelation was still in.

She looked at him and grinned.

"Got something in mind?"

"Yeah, deep strike," he said, bringing up a drop pod that had a missile launcher on it. Twelve inches from the table, he set it down and dispatched his reserves. They were a devastator squad, the last back-up plan. For this turn, he had the missile launcher fire at the Land Raider, but only give it a glancing hit.

He then proceeded to move his Devastators behind some debris that would shield them. The other four squads moved amongst the rubble, taking cover as they went. The Salamanders moved in: three Tactical squads, three Devastator squads and one Command squad, plus a Dreadnought. Shakira was really packing heat tonight.

"So, what's with the face?" Shakira asked.

"What face?" he asked.

"You look intense," she said, tilting her head.

"Something on your mind?" she asked. Miguel scoffed.

"Nothing you'd want to look at."

He sighed as she moved her command squad back. The Dreadnought caught up with one of his Tactical squads and annihilated it completely. He sighed, irritably as he watched the 'battle'. Things were definitely not going to plan today.

"This isn't your style, Miguel, if you want my advice," Shakira said, looking at him. There were looks between the two of them from the spectators and several employees.

"Not interested right now," Miguel said, dismissively.

More of his squads fell until only the Devastators were left. He had charged them all out to thin her ranks. His squads had made a valiant fight, half of her squads were up to half-strength. The Devastators were all that was left of them. Shakira looked at Miguel triumphantly.

"Do you yield?" she asked. Miguel looked back at her with all his will into her eyes.

"No," he whispered as his turn began. He moved his Devastators out of cover and focused fire on the Redeemer. Alas to no avail, it still stood strong. And the last of the 3rd Regular Grey Marines Company was destroyed.

"Good game, Gears," Shakira said, leaning over to Miguel with her hand outstretched. He shook her hand.

"Good game, Shakira." He packed up all of his figures and then walked out of the store without a word to anyone. The night was cold and getting dark. Miguel leaned against the wall outside of the store. He sighed, irritably.

"Hey," Shakira's voice said. Miguel turned his head to see her leaning out of the doorway.

"Hey," he said, quickly. She exited the store completely.

"What's up?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You're not yourself tonight...you've never been yourself since…y'know?" Shakira said. Miguel sighed.

"Yeah, I know," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

"I remember how you used to talk about joining the Marines like your old man back then. You talked about them like they were the Space Marines, themselves."

"It's what I grew up listening to them as," Miguel shrugged.

"Plus, that was then," he added.

"Something's up with you tonight-like really up. You and I know that's not your usual strategy on the table," Shakira said.

"Oh, really?" Miguel asked.

"Yeah, you would have three Tactical squads, two Devastator squads, Two Assaults, a command squad, plus whatever powerful armored support that you had and the reserves," Shakira said. Miguel looked at her strangely.

"I'm surprised that you pay attention."

"Your strategy is always being flexible as well as relying on a bit of surprise and flanking. You would lure someone in like a Tau cadre, and then drop the damn hammer!" She scoffed, "I mean, you're Miguel _fucking_ Gears! Everyone knows you as 'Gears of War'!"

"Oh come on, that's just a pun off of the-"

"But still, you're one of the best players in there, Miguel. You and I know that. Myself and the others know well enough that something's on your mind. And that's what makes you divert from your usual strategy," she said.

Miguel sighed irritably, "It's not your business,"

"It is when you're getting pissy,"

"I'm not-" He started to raise his voice and stopped. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath as he closed his eyes.

"Fine," he said, looking at her.

"It turns out that my _abuelo_ isn't my real _abuelo_."

"What? What the hell does that mean?" Shakira asked, jerking her head back.

"Diego and I talked...turns out that the Marine Sergeant Major I grew up with wasn't my fucking _padre_!" he said, angrily.

Shakira crossed her arms as she tilted her head.

"Well, shit," she said.

They stood in silence.

"Hey," Shakira said, slapping Miguel on the shoulder playfully.

"I don't care if you're adopted or not. Nobody cares, either. You still have your friends and family, regardless of the origin," Shakira said, smiling. He smiled.

"You're a tiger on the table and a lamb outside, you know that, Shakira?" he said, grinning. Shakira smiled.

"So, you still thinking about joining the Marines? I bet that you would make a great officer."

"Nah... on the table I lead. I'm just a follower, really," he said, dismissively.

"Bullshit, you look after those things like they're your own Marines!" Shakira joked.

"Well, I make sure that each and every one of those gray-armoured grunts are prepared for whatever situation they find themselves in," Gears said jokingly.

"See: There's the real Miguel Gears- the wannabe Marine Primarch!"

"There's a reason why they do call them 'Space Marines'," Gears said, picking up his suitcase.

"Well, I'll see you around, Gears. Have a pleasant trip home, okay?" She stopped before turning.

"And Miguel?" He turned to her.

"If you need anything... you know you can talk to me, okay?" Shakira stated seriously.

"Sure, _mi amiga_," he replied. She nodded and went back inside.

Miguel sighed as he walked back to his car. It was a Fatigue Green Chevy Camaro GTO with red racing stripes. This baby had been bought and paid for by not just Gears, but by the Old Man too. Miguel halted when he saw the broken left rearview window.

_"Son of a bitch!"_ he yelled as he dropped his case. He ran over to the window and unlocked the door. There was broken glass on the seat and on the floor.

"Shit," Miguel muttered as he looked at it, careful not to put his hands on the seat. Nothing appeared to be stolen. Well, shit. This was one terrible day. Miguel slammed the door shut.

"Nothing stolen, stupid son of a bitch. I put my valuable shit in the trunk," Miguel muttered. He looked around at the parking lot. People were walking to and from the stores. He shook his head. How the hell was the alarm off?! He sighed angrily. This day was getting worse and worse.

Miguel called the police and reported it. It took about six minutes for the nearest officer to arrive. The police car parked right next to his car. Pedestrians were walking past the scene or stopping to look.

"You heard nothing, sir?" the officer asked. He was a tall black man with short-cropped hair and a mustache. Miguel shook his head.

"No, officer. I was in there the whole time." He sighed, looking at the damage.

"The car alarm should have gone off," he added.

"When was the last time you had your car in a repair shop, sir?" the officer asked.

"Last month, _senor_. They told me everything checked out!" Miguel said. He sighed and put his hands on his hips.

"Obviously, it didn't," Miguel sighed. The officer inspected the damage.

"And nothing was stolen?" he asked.

"No, I keep all of my valuables in my trunk," Miguel replied. The officer sighed.

"Do you have insurance, sir?" Miguel nodded.

"Yep, Progressive."

"I would call them as soon as possible, sir. Have a good night."

"You too, officer." Miguel said, nodding. The police officer went into his car and drove away. Shakira ran up to him.  
"What happened?" She asked.

"My car got broken into while I was inside the shop," Miguel replied, looking at it.

"Shit," she said.

"And the car alarm was off the whole time," Miguel added.

"You're covered, right?"

"Yeah, I am," Miguel replied. She nodded.

Miguel put his case in the trunk and went into the driver's seat. Nothing he could do at this point, except calling his insurance agent. He sighed as he looked at the white crucifix that hung from the rearview mirror. On the dashboard was a picture of his 'parents' holding him as a young boy. His 'father' wore his dark green fatigue BDUs with the rolled up sleeves that showed its white inside. 'Mom' wore a white top with khakis. She looked like a very beautiful woman with her long jet black hair and blue eyes. She had tan skin and looked around late twenties- early thirties. She wore a white crucifix and held young Miguel with affection.

_'Miguelito, why are you crying?'_ He heard her sing-song voice asking.

Miguel realized that tears were running down his cheeks. He wiped them away. He heard his phone ringing and looked at the ID. Rusty. He sighed before answering.

"_Hola_, this is Miguel Gears," he said.

"Hey, kid," A grizzled Southern-accented voice replied.

"Hey, Rusty," Miguel said.

"How are you, kid?" Rusty asked.

"Not good, to tell you the truth."

"Well, come over here to the usual place and tell me about it. Have you ate yet?"

"No, I haven't had dinner yet."

"Good, then we can talk over some buffalo wings or enchiladas. It's going to be on me for this one, alright?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Good man. I'll see you then. Semper Fi," Rusty said before the phone had a static tone. Miguel turned his phone off and turned the key. He backed out of the parking space carefully. He could feel the chilly wind coming through the broken window. At least it helped keep him awake tonight.

Miguel went out of the parking lot and onto the road. After a while, he was driving down a back country road to reach the Globe and Anchor-Atlantic.

The road was seldom used tonight, by the looks of it. The trees towered over the road in the star-lit sky. Miguel sighed as he tried to concentrate on driving. As he drove, he noticed something was glowing from his rearview mirror. At first, he thought it was a car behind him, then he realized that the glowing white-light was coming from the backseat.

"What the?" he asked as he tried to concentrate on driving. He felt his car vibrate with some kind of energy. He looked at his speedometer. He was going sixty-five mph right now.

"What the hell?" he asked as it went up to 80 Miles per Hour. He put a foot on the brake pedal, but it didn't work. What the fuck was going on?! He heard the engine hum faster as he drove down the straight road. At this rate, he was going to jump the damned hills!

Miguel felt something move through the car like static electricity and something came out of his headlights like a laser beam. Something big and multi-colored came in front of him.

_"What the fuck?!"_ he yelled, jerking the wheel as he turned away from it. He went off of the road and right towards a big tree.

_"Son of a bitch!"_ he yelled, bracing himself as the rumbling underneath his tires continued. Then, the car stopped right before hitting the tree. Miguel opened his eyes and slowly turned around, sensing something. There was a large beam of light or energy coming from that thing. Some kind of aura was around the car. The wind had stopped blowing through the opening. Miguel pulled the handle but there was nothing. He couldn't get out of this thing!

In a blur, the car sped backwards into the giant whatever-it-was before Miguel could grab his phone. He closed his eyes in fear and prayed all of the prayers that he knew as he felt butterflies in his stomach. It felt like this thing was flying. Miguel dared not to open his eyes as he recited his prayers. He didn't know how long this nightmare ride was, but he did know that to look outside was madness.

Eventually, the car felt like it was falling and then it rocked as it crashed on something flat. Miguel opened one eye to look and see if anything scary had happened. There was nothing but fog. He opened his other eye as he sighed with relief. Nothing bad had happened, thank _Dio_, at least, as far as he could tell.

Miguel felt the wind blow through the broken window again. He paused for a while before grabbing his phone. He turned off his car and then activated the phone. He looked at the service bars. There was no service here.

"Okay, Miguel. This is just a dream. When you open your eyes, you'll be in an accident or in a hospital bed," he told himself softly. He closed his eyes and then opened them. He was still here, wherever that was. He opened his car door slowly and got out. He looked around. The ground was rocky and there was thick fog for miles around.

"Where am I?" he asked.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Neotokyo_

_130 M31_

"I sense a disturbance in the Warp, my lord Primarchs," Shere announced. Omegon looked away from the infernal fog. Alpharius sighed. Last night, the fog had come in. According to the satellite images and predictions from his staff, the weather would be like this for several days. This only delayed the assault in its tracks.

Operatives that had infiltrated the local populace said that the fog usually meant that something mystical happened. The only mystical thing around here was that the fog was so thick that you couldn't see for a few meters! That was it!

The youngest Primarch looked at Shere.

"What do you mean? What kind of disturbance? Chaos?" he asked.

"No... something else, milord," Shere said, hesitantly.

"It's not... terrible. But it is something strange. It's like something came _out _of the warp near our position," Shere said.

"You're sure?"Alpharius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Milord Omegon, I am always sure,"Shere replied with confidence.

The twin Primarchs glanced at each other. Around them were thirty Legionnaires and fifty operatives and support staff. This was one of the few safe-houses. Outside this stone bastion was a three-headed hydra. Before the fog, the operation was going well. Three companies divided into fifths with a number of support staff and operatives. All were behind the frontlines.

The Falchiwa, the native populace, were battling a joint force of Astartes and Imperial Army units to the south. The Alpha Legion had volunteered some of its own forces to help weaken the Falchiwa defenses. The Emperor was up above this world, observing the campaign from his flagship. Most of the Primarchs were present for this planetary campaign. Officially, this was One-Hundred and Fiftieth. The Hundred and Fiftieth planet conquered by the first Expeditionary Fleet. The Falchiwa prisoners called their world Neoedo.

"I'll go see if I can find anything with my squad, 'milord'," Omegon said. He turned.

"Effrit squad! To me!" he called.

"Shere, Omegon will protect you. Just guide them through that hellhole, understood?"

"Yes, milord Primarch,"

XXX

Miguel turned on his iPod, which connected to the car's radio. Lenny Loggins's 'Danger Zone' played as he grabbed one of the Horus Heresy novels on the passenger's seat. It helped him calm down. For protection, he had a Glock in the glove compartment with several magazines of ammo. Occasionally, he looked up with his eyes to see if anything was coming.

He sighed, reluctantly.

_'You're the son of a Marine, Miguel! Act like one!_' Padre's voice roared in his ear.

_'Raised by a Marine, technically'_. Miguel would say.

_'Technically, I'll shove my right foot up your ass, grunt! Act like a goddamn Marine!'_ Dad would probably have yelled. Of course, he swore that he heard it himself. Miguel jumped and threw his book aside. Y'know, it's funny how it almost looked like Shakespeare's _Macbeth_- the Horus Heresy.

Miguel began driving slowly through the fog. He opened the glove compartment and set the Glock on the seat after checking it.

XXX

"I can sense its presence. It is getting stronger," Shere announced as they walked through the fog.

"Then it's nearby," Omegon said, looking around him. The squad and the psyker were close in proximity. That was the rule. The fog was so damned thick, one could get lost and never come back. The only way to go through was if you had bright enough light sources, which Effrit squad did not.

"What do you think it is, Shere?" he whispered so that the psyker could speak to him.

"I have absolutely no idea, Lord Omegon. We will find out once we see it, I suppose," Shere replied, reverently. Omegon sighed under his breath. He then heard and smelled it. Some form of oil or gas. He raised a fist, halting the squad.

"What is it?" Shere asked.

"I hear something..." Omegon said, scanning the fog ahead of him. He heard something. It sounded like ... music? He raised his boltgun as did the others.

"Shere, scan ahead."

"Yes, milord."

XXX

Miguel sighed as he felt a pounding headache that came suddenly. It was like something was going up against his mind. On instinct, he turned on the highbeams. He stopped the car as he saw something in the fog.. something big. He slowly drove forward and turned off the iPod.

Miguel saw the borderline of four, maybe five giants and a tall man wearing a hooded cloak. He parked the car then and there. He grabbed the Glock and made sure the safety was on. He put it in his back pants. He slowly got out of the car, looking at the figures.

_"Hola?"_ he called out.

"Anyone there?" he added as he slowly walked forward. He froze when he saw one or two of them shift. It didn't look like ghosts or a trick of the light. He blinked several times to make sure. They were still there.

A booming voice called out in some sort of latin-British accent.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled, looking around. He reached for his gun.

"If anyone's out there, show yourself! If this is a prank, it's not fucking funny!" he yelled.

XXX

"I said, come closer!" Omegon said, deeply. A young man's voice answered him with some sort of accent. He couldn't place it, as well as the language. Perhaps he didn't speak Low Gothic? Omegon's gene-enhanced eyes looked at him. He looked like a young man, late teens about. He had short jet black hair and was very muscular. The vehicle was sleek, but primitive.

"This the disturbance, Shere?" Omegon flatly asked.

Shere looked ahead and nodded.

"Yes, as the disturbance is right in front of us."

"Him or the vehicle?"

"Maybe both," Omegon sighed at this. He walked forward. The young man shouted something like a curse and stepped back with fear.

"Adeptus Astartes?!" he said.

"So, you do know Low Gothic..." Omegon said. The young man blinked several times. He turned around and said something. Then he turned back around with his eyes closed and opened them.

"Secure the perimeter," Omegon ordered. The squad moved like ghosts around the two. The young man stepped back, reaching for the weapon that was in his back pants. Omegon grabbed his arm delicately so not to crush it.

"Don't," Omegon said, looking into the boy's eyes.

XXX

Miguel looked at the tall Space Marine. He was bald and copper-skinned. His eyes were arctic blue.

"What the fuck is this?! This is real, isn't it?!" he shouted. He looked at the man defiantly.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on! I'm-" he paused.

"Yeah, I have a gun. You can take that," he said as a hooded figure walked over to them. Miguel looked at him.

"Look, I'm sorry if I spooked you guys out. Can't we talk about this like hombres?" Miguel asked. The Astartes that held him then plucked the Glock from his pants and crushed it visibly.

"You! Do you know how much that cost you son of a-"

The Astartes said something to the hooded figure who replied in turn. The hooded figure walked up to him. Miguel had a feeling of dread.

"What is this?" he asked. The man looked up from under his hood. Miguel felt something in his mind.

+++Who are you?+++ A voice in his head asked.

"Miguel Gears!" Miguel replied, he felt it probe inside his mind. It was becoming more unpleasant. The man kept staring at him, coldly.

+++What secrets are you hiding, boy? How did you get here?++++ It insisted. He had a tremendous headache.

"Fuck!" He then realized that it was looking through his mind. He tried to ward it off mentally but to no avail. He tried not to think about Warhammer, Games Workshop or any of it. As he now realized that where he was... was possibly real.

+++What are you hiding? Show me+++

_'NO! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD PENDEJO!_' Gears' thought.

+++This is going to drive you insane unless you cooperate+++

Miguel's mind began to crack under the pressure. He could feel the memories and knowledge leaking out of his weak barriers. Eventually it flooded out.

_'Shit'_ He thought.

+++What is this?!+++ The man became wide-eyed at what he read. Gears glared at him as the memories and knowledge flooded his mind.

XXX

"Shere, what is it?" Omegon asked. The young man suddenly cried out in pain and crumpled.

Shere breathed heavily as he looked at the boy and then to Omegon.

"I... He... He had information, milord."

"On what?" Shere shook his head.

"It didn't make much sense, but he had knowledge of the future... in a strange sense."

"How so?" Omegon asked. Shere went over to the body.

"I knocked him unconscious, milord. You can question him, later. But I do believe that the material this young man possesses is... sensitive to the common eye," Shere said as he took the boy's keys from him and pressed a button. The vehicle made a noise and he saw little black things in the doors pop up. He opened the right side door and then the trunk.

"What kind of material, Shere? What are you talking about?"

"What I mean, milord... is that quite possibly," Shere said, walking to the trunk and inserting the key. It opened as Shere looked at it.

"He's not from around here."

"What?" Omegon asked, walking over to the trunk. He looked down at the case to see a case with a fable-looking silver aquila. Shere opened the case.

"What way of trickery is this?!" Omegon bellowed.

XXX

_Alpha Legion Battle Barge Alpha_

_130 M31_

Miguel opened his eyes as he woke up. His vision was blurry as he yawned. Man... that was one crazy ass dream! He tried to get a hand up, but felt something resist.

He frowned as his vision cleared. He looked around. He realized that he was sitting in something a chair? What was he doing in a chair? Miguel felt cold metal against his wrists and rope around his waist.

_'Why are there handcuffs?! Better yet why am I tied to the fucking chair?!' _He thought.

Miguel looked around at his surroundings. There was only the overhead that lit up the room. There was also a door right in front of him. Miguel took a deep breath and remembered what had happened. He remembered seeing that man…no,_ Space Marine_. It was an honest-to-God Space Marine! Then something entered his head and looked right into it. It was that... freak.

"What is this? _40k_?" he whispered. He froze. Shit... That guy was a fucking psyker! This really was _40k_, wasn't it?!

"Listen to yourself," he said, grinning, "You're acting _loco_, man. You might be dreaming or possibly high."

"Except, I don't do drugs," Miguel said, soberly. He slumped against the chair.

"Lord, please tell me this is a dream," he muttered.

XXX

"This language has not been read since the Age of Old Terra," the adept reported, looking at the large tome. It sat upon a bookstall. Next to the stand was a workbench. One of the adepts was looking at the two small, rectangular devices. One had a shiny backside, while the other was almost fully metallic.

"Can you decipher it, Magos?"

"Have no fear. Though this language is long dead, it's recorded in memory." The Magos nodded.

"What language is this?" Omegon asked, looking at it text cover.

"The language appears to be 'English' a sort of common language in the Age of Old Terra. It is one of the precursors to our modern Gothic Languages of this current era of human history," the Magos added.

"What of the devices and the vehicle?" Omegon asked.

"The devices are for two purposes: primitive telecommunications and musical entertainment. They predate the Dark Age of Technology, possibly back to the Age of Old Terra itself!" the Magos added with excitement at discovering technology that had been lost with the sands of time.

"And the vehicle is also primitive. It's strange. A vehicle like this uses an archaic fuel source that is a precursor to modern promethium. We are updating the vehicle to modern technology while striving to keep its graceful design. Also, we are going to need a genetic sample from the prisoner, should you wish to free him, milord," the Magos said, bowing. Clicks were heard as he bent over. Alpharius nodded.

"We thank you for your time, Magos. We will leave you to your work," Alpharius bowed his head. Then, he and Omegon walked away from the chambers.

"Perhaps we should order a genetic sample on the safe side," Alpharius said.

"Indeed, I felt…I felt that there was something familiar with that boy. Something strange..." Omegon said.

"We shall learn the truth."

"Soon enough." Omegon finished for Alpharius.

XXX

Five of them had come in. All had boltguns. Miguel saw the insignia on their shoulder pads. It looked like Pre-Heresy Alpha Legion, from what he had read in the novels. And the Armor was Mark IV or Mark V. One of them came at him with a knife. Miguel tensed as the Legionnaire walked slowly. Miguel looked at him.

"Hey, I don't want no trouble, _ hombre_," Miguel said. The Space Marine walked behind him saying something in his strange language. It was probably Imperial Gothic. Miguel breathed, fighting his fear. The Space Marine disappeared from his peripheral vision. Miguel felt something massive between his hands. The chain tensed against his wrists and something broke. His hands were free of whatever had bound them. Then, he felt the rope ease its tension. Miguel sighed.

_"Gracias, Senor,"_ Miguel said, rubbing his hands. They still had the cuffs, but they were free for now. The Alpha Legionnaire with the knife stood next to him. He jerked his head to the side as he spoke. Miguel stood up, not questioning the order. It was to follow them. The Legionnaires aimed their boltguns at him as they walked. Miguel made the universal gesture of surrendering as he walked.

They walked down the corridor and through the hallways. He saw humans and cyborgs alike in there as he walked. They either ignored him or stared at the group. Eventually, they reached what was possibly the medical bay. A Legionnaire with an Apothecary badge looked at the group. One of the Legionnaires spoke, saying 'Primarch' repeatedly during their conversation. The Apothecary raised an eyebrow and then nodded. There were other Apothecaries here, but this one was singled out, apparently.

The Apothecary looked at Miguel and pointed to a slab at his height. Miguel looked uneasily at the Apothecary.

"Why should I do that?" he asked. One of the legionnaires shouted something in Imperial Gothic. Miguel didn't understand, but it probably was something like 'Get your ass moving!' Miguel went to the slab and sat on it. The Apothecary put a hand on Miguel's chest and pushed him lightly on his back.

Miguel looked at the Apothecary as the slab rose. Miguel saw the Apothecary move out of his vision. Miguel started to sit up, but then one of the legionnaires came into view and put his hand on Miguel's chest, shaking his head.

"What's going on?" he asked. The Apothecary returned, carrying something. Miguel's eyes widened.

"Holy shit," he whispered as the Apothecary set down a big-ass injection needle. The needle was so long, it could be used as a sword. The Apothecary said something and put a finger on Miguel's cheek, turning his head to the side so that he wouldn't see.

"That's good advice," Miguel said.

Miguel shut his eyes and tried to breathe normally as someone spoke and he felt pressure on his left arm. He felt a liquid being rubbed upon him and then pressure on his chest.

"Oh Lord, here we go. I hate needles... I hate them so much," he whispered. He then felt something pierce his right arm. He screamed as he felt the pressure in the right arm increase. Blood drew. Miguel breathed quickly. And then, he felt the needle withdraw and something held his arm. Miguel looked up at the Apothecary who held a tube filled with blood... Miguel's blood.

"For the love of God and all that is holy... don't do that again!" he said to the Apothecary. He put a hand on his bleeding arm. Blood ran down the arm as the Apothecary put the tube somewhere and produced a large bandage roll. Miguel's wound was bandaged. The Apothecary nodded, satisfied with his work. Miguel, however, winced as he tried to move his arm. He suddenly felt dizzy.

"That's an awful lot of my blood," he commented.

XXX

_Alpha Legion Battle Barge Alpha_

_130 M31_

"We have considered telling Father about this new guest," Alpharius said.

"Indeed, we have."

"It's strange how it seems insignificant at one point, but on the other, it appears to be important. I wonder why."

"We both do, brother," Omegon said. They walked into the Apothecarium. Apothecary Mabon greeted them.

"Milord Primarchs, if you will follow me."

"How was our 'guest'?"

"His face paled at the size of the needle. Other than a bleeding arm, he's well," Mabon replied.

"Have you finished your research?" Omegon asked.

"Yes, I have." He stopped and then looked at the twins.

"There is something... unnatural about his genetic sequence. I suggest you look at it yourselves," Mabon said, continuing his walk. He grabbed a dataslate from his desk and handed it to the Primarchs. Both read the data. Alpharius made a concerned expression and glanced at his brother.

"I have told no one," Mabon said.

"And you shouldn't," Omegon replied firmly.

"Make sure nobody but you, my twin, and I know of this inside the Legion."

"And what of the outside?"

"We shall handle that."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Alpha Legion Battle Barge Alpha_

_130.M31_

Miguel sat in his cell. He couldn't tell how long he'd been in here. Days? Weeks? They fed him now and then. As Miguel sat in his chair, he contemplated about the past. He regretted shouting at Grandpa Diego, but also felt betrayed. He had _never _been a Marine's son. Despite all the warmth, he had been a bastard, a _real_ bastard.

"What the hell have I done to deserve this?" He thought aloud. Immediately, he thought of the answer.

"I guess I was too angry at _abuelo_. I mean... I was raised by a Marine and his family for eighteen years and they never told me that I was their kid." Miguel sighed angrily. The door opened.

"If it's food, I'll take it. If it's a shot, shove it up yo' ass!" Miguel called as it slid open. Five figures walked in, wearing gleaming golden armor. They were armed with spears and formed a circle. All wore helmets. From their build and height, they were Astartes. They were either Imperial Fists or Custodes. Miguel saw no Imperial Fist insignia. But there were aquila icons. Perhaps, they were Custodes.

A sixth came in. He had an olive laurel around his long jet black hair. He had many wrinkles that spoke of age, yet he looked around early forties'. He wore golden armor as well It had the image of an Aquila as a cuirass and claw-like talons on one of the arms. There was also an eagle's foot on a shoulderpad. He had a tan complexion as either a Latino or someone from the Middle East. The man had an aura of benevolence, trust, and honor around radiance of this figure shone with authority and almost divinity. Miguel couldn't help but feel inspired by the very image of this man. He swallowed as he stood up.

"Sorry for the harsh language, sir." Miguel said bowing his head. The man jerked his head back. He then spoke something. One of the Custodes looked at him and began to protest, but the man spoke firmly. The guard nodded and the five Custodes left the room. The door slid shut behind them.

Miguel looked at the man. He had dark eyes, Miguel noticed.

The man clasped his hands behind his back as he walked around Miguel. Miguel followed the man as he walked, turning his head. The man appeared to be inspecting him with a curious expression. He stopped after completing his turn.

_"Habla ingles y espanol, senor?"_ Miguel asked. The man widened his eyes and smiled.

_"Si, mi amigo. Hablo ingles y espanol." _The man said in Spanish. Miguel sighed with relief.

"Thank God. Everyone else either doesn't speak a word of English or mind-rapes me." Miguel said.

"English has not been spoken for a long time. Some aspects of it have survived though." The man said in perfect English.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Miguel, Miguel Gears." Miguel replied.

"Where are you from, Miguel?" The man said with a paternal tone. Miguel paused before answering.

"I'm from Ralton, Georgia in America... what should I call you, sir?" Miguel asked. The man sighed and was in thought.

"I have had many names throughout my life. You may call me as everyone else sometimes does: _Imperator_."

"Okay, _Imperator_." Miguel said, noting its other meaning. He froze as he realized its true meaning. This 'man' was _the_ Emperor of Mankind! The Father of the Primarchs and the Space Marine Legions! The Master of the Imperium, and other titles belonged to him.

"May I ask where I am,_ Imperator_?" Miguel asked. The Emperor nodded.

"You are currently on board the battle-barge _Beta_, which belongs to the Alpha Legion." The Emperor said. Miguel sighed. That proved it. He was on one of the Alpha Legion's battle barges, which confirmed his theory of his whereabouts in the _Warhammer 40,000_ universe.

"It's also in orbit above a world called 'Neotokyo' by the natives." The Emperor added.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused, _Imperator_." The Emperor raised a hand and smiled.

"Peace, my boy. You have not caused any trouble. Rather, trouble found you, it seems. What is a boy like you being so far from home? What do you remember last?" Miguel told his story to the Emperor, careful to leave out a few details. The Emperor made a concerned expression.

"Whatever reason you were brought here, I am sure that it wanted you to be here." The Emperor sighed, happily.

"And I confess that I am happy for it."

Miguel blinked and he asked.

"Why? Aren't you confused, sir? I mean, I'm not supposed to be here!" Miguel said.  
"No offense to you, sir." He added, guiltily.  
"None taken, really." The Emperor said.  
"So... why did you come see me, Imperator?" Miguel asked.

"One of my sons had discovered you last night. You may recall being injected? A sample of your genetic sequence was acquired and it has come to my attention to my attention as it is... unique." The Emperor said. Miguel rose an eyebrow.  
"Unique? How? I'm not that special."

"You have no idea how special you are, Miguel. Please, sit down." The Emperor said. Miguel did so.

"The reason why I am here, is that it has come to my attention that you have unique genes. I have also heard that you are talented in leading warriors into battle." Miguel scoffed.  
"Forgive me, sir. I'm just a follower, not a leader. When it comes to tabletop games, I lead. But, I'm just a follower."

"And follow you shall, in the footsteps of my sons." Miguel jerked his head back in surprise and gulped.

"This is... really new to me, sir."

"You will adapt, you have my word on that." The Emperor said. Miguel couldn't help but feel a sort of bond with the man. He was easy to get along with.

"So, what's so special about my DNA?"

"That's the old acronym for it. What's so special about your genes, is that it is... Astartes material." Miguel's face paled.

"Excuse me," He said, tilting his head. The Emperor nodded.

"You heard me correctly. You are to become a Space Marine, a special kind of Space Marine."  
"What kind, sir?"

"Well, I am not sure. We will learn in time to see what kind of Astartes you are, my boy." The Emperor said, putting a hand on Miguel's shoulder. Miguel sighed.

"I know that this is hard to take in, Miguel. But you are a special young man. And therefore, you are to be trained by humanity's greatest generals." The Emperor said. Miguel looked at the Emperor in the eye.

"But what is it going to be for?" Miguel asked.

"If you don't mind me asking," The Emperor looked at Miguel.

"Humanity has long been fractured. You yourself have seen it. Humanity is scattered across the stars. I am trying to unite humanity and advance it to a period of peace and prosperity. The human family must be as one, Miguel. We all have a purpose and each of us have to find out for ourselves what it is." The Emperor said.

"Even if... even if someone's adopted?" Miguel asked. The Emperor smiled and nodded.

"Yes, even if someone is adopted." He said. He surprised Miguel by giving him a hug. He pulled back.

"I must go now, Miguel. I will have someone teach you modern customs of the Imperium as well as learn the language." The Emperor said.

"It's an honor meeting you, sir." Miguel said, bowing his head.

"The honor is mine, my boy." The Emperor said, smiling.

"Until we meet again, farewell." The Emperor said.

"Bye, sir." Miguel said as the Emperor walked out of the room. Miguel sat back in his chair, smiling.

'What a nice guy,' Miguel thought. He then thought about something. The Emperor talked as if he had known his secret. But... he hadn't asked any really significant questions. And then there was the matter of... learning from the Primarchs. Miguel whistled.

"This is one strange day," He said.

XXX

"I must confess, Alpharius. I did not believe it until I read that data-slate." The Emperor said in Gothic as he walked with Alpharius down the corridor. The Custodes formed a phalanx around the two.

"This is... completely unexpected. When should we... or I tell the others, milord?" Alpharius asked.

"When the time is right or not. Still, this is unprecedented, though fortuitous. Still, I am concerned about his welfare. How in Terra's name did he get here?" The Emperor asked. He shook his head.

"Something strange is happening, mark my words, Alpharius."

"Yes, father." Alpharius nodded in agreement.

"He is different, I am certain. Still, he must learn if he is ever to fulfill his destiny."

"Did you reveal his heritage, father?"

"After what I have learned from your psyker? How can I? The boy has been through so much already! He grew up believing in something but the truth has driven him into anger and depression. I cannot foresee what the outcome would be if we told him."

"Then, when should we tell him?"

"What we may tell him could drive him to the brink of insanity. He has been raised all his life with a lie over his head, despite his good upbringing. We must not tell him until the time is right."

"And when is the time right, father?"

"When he is ready, Alpharius, when he is ready."

"Truth be told, father. This should be a momentous occasion. One of the plaques from the Mausoleum should be torn down. But, then again, it is best if we keep it secret, in my opinion."

"Yes, there is no better keeper of secrets than you, Alpharius. Even those that even I must not learn, truth be told." The Emperor said.

"So, who shall train him, my liege?" Alpharius asked.

"Horus?"

"No, Horus is too far at the moment. Besides, I believe that Horus shall be his greatest teacher. And there is a saying 'Always leave the best for last'." The Emperor smiled.

"You all will have a chance to teach Miguel. And I have an idea on who should be first."

XXX

Miguel's bonds were broken by human guards. Freed of the remaining cuffs, Miguel was escorted through the ship. He noticed the gigantic dimensions of this ship. The hatches were bigger than normal hatches on a ship. Then again, this _was_ an Astartes battle barge. Most of the crewmembers that he encountered were humans wearing a narrow variety of uniforms. A few wore skintight black body suits, others wore jumpsuits or some kind of combat uniform. There were few Astartes onboard.

The hallways were dimly lit and the corridors were long. Miguel had no idea of the dimensions of a standard Space Marine battle barge, but he had to guess that it was possibly as long as a carrier or supercarrier back home.

Miguel was led to the hangar bay where scores of gigantic dropships were latched onto the walkways. There were smaller dropships that looked like Thunderhawks or an early model of them. To see such things in real life gave a sense of awe and fascination to Miguel. The dropships were being attended by real servitors, technicians and techpriests. The size of the hangar bay amazed Miguel. He had read descriptions of this in books, but they didn't do any justice. Far off, he could see the harsh, cold vastness of space populated by the light of distant stars. Miguel shuddered to think of actually being in vaccuum. There was a certain aura around the dropship bay hatch that protected them from the outside void.

The walkway that Miguel and his escorts were on led to one Thunderhawk dropship at the end of the walkway. It was painted dark blue and had a stylized silver 'U' with gold trimmings: the mark of the Ultramarines. There were ten Ultramarines in Mark II armor. It looked crude but impressive. Miguel preferred the Mark 7 Aquila armor in the modern _Warhammer 40,000_.

Among them was a Custodes in his golden armor. In his massive hand was a scroll. The guard leader went up to the Ultramarines and made the sign of the aquila. They all did. The guard leader spoke with a Space Marine sergeant wearing a red helmet with a laurel.

The Custodes walked up to Miguel and handed him a scroll. He saw something about the Emperor. Miguel grabbed the scroll respectfully and bowed his head. He unfurled the scroll. It was cursively written in English.

_Miguel, _

_Upon my request, Roboute Gulliman shall be your first instructor. He is a great general and statesman. I can tell that you will learn much from him. _

_I wish that you have a pleasant journey. I also wish you fortune on your training. There is no doubt that it will be harsher than you expected it to be, but it will also yield greater rewards. _

_As to the fate of your personal effects, I fear that the Mechanicum will study them for sometime. But, rest assured, they will be returned to you with possible changes. _

_With regards, _

_Imperator _

Miguel wondered what sort of training that he would have. Would it be something like Marine Corps basic? Dad-no- Alan had always told him that it was a great, but harsh experience.

The guard leader looked at Miguel and jerked his head, speaking. Miguel nodded. He walked over to the waiting Ultramarines. Miguel bowed his head.

"Hello," He said. The giant Sergeant bowed his head and a deep voice came out from the helmet's speakers. Miguel didn't understand a word.

_"Yo siento, hablo Ingles y espanol."_ Miguel said. The sergeant tilted his head and spoke. The other nine Space Marines formed a box-like formation around Miguel and marched inside the Thunderhawk.

XXX

_Roboute, _

_I write this standing order to you, my son. A young boy was found last week by Alpharius. He has shown some unique talent and I believe that his genetic material is similar to that of an Astartes. I ask that you take him under your wing as I believe that he has the potential to become a good leader. His name is Miguel Gears. He speaks two languages that are long dead. I ask that you teach him Imperial Gothic as well as all that you can teach him. However, you have a limited time to train him. _

_Miguel knows of you and your brothers as well as the Legions, though he knows little-to nothing of our culture or language. So, it should make your task lighter. _

_I know that this may be a daunting task as you lead your Legion in this Crusade, and I have no wish that you be bothered further, however, I believe that this is of great importance. I wish you luck in your instruction. _

_With regards, _

_Father_

Roboute Gulliman read the scroll with interest and put it aside.

"How long to train one boy?" He sighed. This was a strange request. He activated the intercom.

"Has the guest arrived?"

"Yes, he has, Lord Gulliman. Where shall I send him?"

"I will receive him, thank you, Captain." Gulliman said, curtly. He shut it off. Gulliman thought for a moment on what to do. This was outside of the usual training regimen and protocols. Perhaps...? Gulliman nodded.

"Would do us all a bit of work, though it is unusual." Gulliman said to himself. He stood up from his chair. Time to meet this 'Miguel Gears'.

XXX

_Ultramarines Flagship_

_130.M31_

Miguel was taken to a guest room on board this ship. The room had some decorations, like the curtains and a painting/picture. The covers for the rack were blue and there was even a head in here. There was even a viewport looking out to space. Miguel walked over to the view port and looked out, taking in the scene. Vast empty space was populated by starships of monstrous proportions, smaller craft going back and forth between ships, three moons, and one planet.

'I'm the first Gears to be in space,' Miguel thought. There was a knock on the hatch and Miguel turned around, coming to attention.

"Come in!" Miguel said. The door opened and a towering figure in blue power armor walked in. Miguel struggled not to crane his neck in interest and awe. The footsteps of this giant made the deck tremble. Miguel stood at attention and stared blankly ahead as the giant walked towards him. The giant crouched and his head was at Miguel's eye level. He had an aura of power, authority and charisma about him.

The giant stared at him for sometime before standing up and walking around Miguel. He stopped circling Miguel once he finished a complete circle. The giant spoke in a deep voice. Miguel assumed that meant 'at ease'. He spread his feet and put his hands behind his back.

"Sir," He said. The giant nodded, impressed.

"Up to this point, sir. I have no idea what you're saying." Miguel said, flatly. The giant smirked as if understanding and spoke.

"Gulliman, Roboute Gulliman." The giant said. Miguel's eyes widened and he lost disciplined control for a moment as he stared at the Creator of the Codex Astartes. Roboute Gulliman... First the Emperor, now Gulliman? Whose next, Horus?

Miguel snapped his head back into staring forward. The giant chuckled.

XXX

His first impression was that this youth had some training and discipline. Miguel was also fit for his age. His hair was... longer than regulations would allow, probably. The boy was doing his best to maintain discipline and that spoke many things about him. Of course, he would have to learn of his other values.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Neotokyo_

_130.M41_

"You have to joking! You're the reason why twelve hundred men, four companies, were moved off of Macragge, shipped from Ultramar... for this?!" The sergeant bellowed in Miguel's face. Miguel did his best not to flinch. The Astartes yelling at him was an Ultramarine Scout Sergeant.

Nine other men besides Miguel were in the first row. There were forty other columns of recruits. They were kids ranging from ten to eleven years old. Miguel felt oddly out of place with these kids. Of course, he was raised to believe that children weren't supposed to fight. They were supposed to play, learn and grow up to become whatever they desired. Miguel knew about how Space Marines were created, how the age range of the inductees truly mattered when it came to implanting the needed organs that a Space Marine needed. It was unethical of course, but then this was the far future. Humanity was at war with alien, heretics, and demons. What other choice did it have besides inexhaustible armies of regular men and women? Their sacrifice was unsung, but never for nothing.

What is your name, boy?!" The sergeant yelled.

"Miguel Gears, sergeant!"

"Mikhael Ghears, is it?" The Sergeant said. He had a clean shaven head with a battle scar over his lip and right eye.

Miguel wanted to correct him but decided not to. It had been two months since Miguel was found. He had all but mastered Imperial Gothic and High Gothic. Gulliman himself had taught him.

"Yes, sergeant!"

"Where are you from, boy?"  
"Terra, sir!"

"Just because you're from Terra and that you might be a golden boy to the Emperor and Gulliman themselves does not make you a Terran golden boy, Ghears! You are a recruit, boy!"

"And for now on! Whenever you have a moment on our new training world, you can personally thank Mikhael Ghears for your new home in this place of torment. Is that understood?" The Sergeant bellowed.

"Yes, sergeant!" The recruit company yelled back. Miguel could already feel the hated stares at the back of his head.

The sky was clear blue and pocketed by clouds. The terrain around them was mountainous and forested. In the distance there was a large lake.  
Truth be told, Miguel was surprised to be in this company. He didn't know that he was possibly Astartes material. The fact that he was here spoke volumes. What was the Emperor seeing that he didn't?

"Let me introduce myself to you boys if you haven't heard of me!" The Sergeant added.

"I am Sergeant Holstus! You have all been recruited into the Legiones Astartes, the Emperor's Finest! You will train, eat, and sleep like Astartes. But you don't deserve that title until you are all done training when I say you are done training! Is that understood?" Sergeant Holstus yelled.

"Yes, Sergeant!"

"Good! Almost all of you have been recruited into the Ultramarines, the largest and best Legion of them all! We are the sons of Gulliman! And you will know so much about Gulliman's doctrines: you will breathe and speak every one of them!" Holstus said, glaring at Miguel briefly.

"Now, I want you all to take a scenic view of this nice-looking countryside... by running five kilometers."

There were silent groans.

"Now it'll be ten kilometers! If there is a tad bit more of complaining and whining, it'll be ten!"

Noone groaned.

"Good, now run in an orderly fashion, you maggots!" Holstus bellowed. Miguel started to jog at a steady pace. Others were doing the same or sprinting.

"That's not orderly! Do I have to teach you everything myself?!"

XXX

"Nice going, Ghears." One of the other recruits said, pushing past him.

"Thanks a lot, golden boy!" Another said, angrily. Miguel sighed. They were at the lake. It had been a long run, indeed. Miguel panted as he sat down. His heart felt like it was going to come out of his chest if he kept continuing.

"I didn't say that you should be sitting down, boy!" Holstus barked. Miguel stood straight up and felt a pain in his chest. Damn, that never happened before when he worked out.

"Sorry, Sergeant." Miguel said. Something in his chest was starting to tingle. Miguel put a hand on his chest. Miguel swore that it was almost like indigestion or something. But it felt like something else. It was something burning. Miguel ignored it.

"That's the last time I ever have some fast food," He muttered.

XXX

Miguel found himself missing his home more than once. Two weeks after his introduction to training, the recruits were marched to a makeshift Imperial encampment that had an Ultramarine presence. Miguel had found himself a tad bit stronger and faster than the other boys. Well, he was older than them and fitter. He had spent his childhood playing with Marines' children and exercising with real Marines. But this wasn't the regular Marines. What the Space Marines did, and from what Miguel had read and heard, this made the Marines look sane enough to join.

Miguel was hinted at the purpose of this visit when he saw the familiar machine-skull cog symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Brotherhood of Mars. Of course, in the Great Crusade, it had been the Martian Mechanicum. The recruits stood in formation in front of a large building that looked like it had been reconstructed and then repurposed into some kind of factory. Perhaps this was Phase I of the implantation?

Miguel watched with keen interest as a red robed figure came out of the doorway, flanked by two people that looked like they had been bolted to the figure looked mostly mechanical than man. Miguel had heard of the augmentations of the Mechanicus as their acolytes increased in rank. But, to see it in person was horrifying and interesting.

"Welcome to outpost Ultra 1/345 Beta!" The man spoke with a half-robotic voice.

"Here is where you shall be given the greatest gifts to ever receive during your training. Some of you may die receiving your gifts as your bodies will not... be used to them. Others, however, will adapt and survive with these gifts." The acolyte said.

"The first two ranks of this company shall enter first. After about twelve standard hours, another two ranks shall enter." The acolyte said.

'That's how long it takes for someone to be implanted? Twelve hours?' Miguel thought.

Miguel was among those first to enter. The place was dimmed and the smell of burning incense was smelled as the recruits were led into separate chambers. Miguel was brought to a room with a slab on it. Overhead was a machine brimming with many tools that were wired. Miguel began to feel dread at the coming implantation.

'Lord, please don't let me be awake for this... please don't let me feel anything!' He prayed in his head.  
An ochre-robed figure walked in. His right eye was replaced with a huge red bionic eye.

"Take off your clothes, aspirant." The man said in a robotic voice. Miguel nodded and did what he was told to do. He laid down on the slab. The techpriest walked over and hunched over Miguel's prone form.

"Physically and on the exterior, you appear to be healthy and well." The cone started to come down and a tool extended. Miguel felt a pit in his stomach.

"Oh crap," he said in English as a very long needle extended itself. One of the servo-arms of the techpriest reached for another instrument. It looked like some kind of gas mask. He placed it over Miguel's mouth.

"Breathe normally, please. This will take a moment or two." the Techpriest said. Miguel breathed normally and then blacked out after the third breath as the needle came closer to his left arm.

XXX

The needle's anesthetic relaxed the body as the aspirant fell asleep. Good, he wouldn't feel a thing, though it was an illogical thought. Unlike some of his bretheren, Techpriest Enginseer Mafe Hochs preferred to have a bit of emotion left. To him, it made him a bit more human, but with a healthy dose of the Omnissah's blessed gifts.

He memorized every single small detail of the procedure, as this was his eighty-first time. No one had died on his operating table, and he didn't plan on it... except for that one poor fellow who turned out to have his organs reversed. Nature was illogical and very bizarre when it came to organics.

First, he had an X-ray device scan the body for anything unusual or broken bones. His bones did seem a bit bruised. At first glance, his organs appeared to be in perfect health. Perhaps this one trained before all the rest of the neophytes, he did seem a lot older than the others. Perhaps a last-minute recruit?

On his second scan, he noticed something else. At first, it only seemed like one abnormality. But the next ten scans revealed more than one abnormality. Puzzled, he surgically cut the body open to see it for himself. What he saw in the boy's organs stunned him to the core.

"That's not normal," He breathed. He summoned one of his bretheren to come in and verify it, who in turn, summoned their Magos.

All three scrutinized the abnormalities.

"Are you sure that you did the procedure, right?" The magos asked. Hochs nodded.

"By the Omnissah, I swear that I've done it right! That wasn't there before until I looked at it two hours ago!"

"This is a serious problem. In all my years, this is the first time that we have encountered... something like this." The magos said, scrutinizing the mutation.

"What is your order, magos?" The magos thought for a moment.

"Close this body up. I will speak with the Scout Sergeant, and if possible the Scout Captain. By the Omnissah's Code and the Pax Imperium, we have to report this." The magos said.

"What of the boy?"

"Tell him that the 'implants' are... special." The magos said.

"Yes, magos." Hochs replied, bitterly. This was the first time that he lied to a neophyte.

After the body was closed up, the Magos told the Sergeant, who told his captain, who told..

XXX

Gulliman spat out his tea when he had heard the news. He swore, realizing that he was going to have to wipe the table later.

"Did I hear this right? Gears has...?" He turned his head to Scout Captain Marcus.

"Yes, milord. Miguel Gears is either mutating some of his organs or the necessary organs required to become a Space Marine are actually growing inside of him, including his progenoid gland." the magos said.

"A mutant... Terra help us all." Gulliman said, shocked.

"Who else knows this?"

"Scout Sergeant Holstus, and a few techpriests."

"How long until they fully develop? We can't kill him in the Emperor's Mercy."

"They are developing at a slow rate. We suspect within twenty to forty Standard Terran years."

Gulliman shook his head.

"Twenty to forty years... And I am right to say that he may be suffering pain through all that time?"

"We suspect that it will be agonizingly slow and painful, yes."

"There is no way to possibly quicken it?" He blurted.

"No, there is no way to hasten the creation of an Astartes, milord. You yourself know this."

"Of course," Gulliman laughed at his folly. He sat for a moment in silence.

"I suspect that the Emperor may have given him to me in this condition, but I am not sure if he was aware of the boy's... condition. He is to be kept in his squad for the remaining cycle until further orders come from the Emperor."

"He is to be treated the same like all the rest of the neophytes," Gulliman said.

"Understood, milord Primarch."

XXX

"Oi, Ghears!" One of the boys called out. Miguel looked up from his cot. He winced as he sat up. The scars from his surgery hurt like heck. He thought if they either stitched him up or used some kind of advanced medical formula to seal them.

"Yeah, what?" Miguel replied in Gothic. A pebble came out of nowhere and hit him square on the forehead.

"Son of a-!"

"That's for making us run, you overgrown bastard!" Someone yelled. Miguel sighed. For the past three days, he had been receiving glares from the other neophytes since the day he joined them. He had heard the whispers behind his back and felt the tension.

Miguel sighed as he went back down to his cot as snickers arose. A thought struck him as he considered the motives of the recruits. They were just kids. Perhaps he was being made a common enemy to the rest of the recruits. They needed to shift their attention at the instructors. They were the real enemy. They were trying to break them all individually. But, if they were together as one unit... then perhaps more of these kids could... yes, that might just be possible. Marine boot camp was designed to break down the individuals to their core and then build them back up as a unit.  
Miguel said nothing and waited for the coming day.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

(**Author's Note: Tha****nk you for your reviews. They keep me writing on. I've decided to give you guys a choice in who gets to train Miguel next. Which Legion should it be? Also, edboy4926 asked why Gears didn't ask about Davin. The reason would be that that would raise certain suspicions from the Emperor in my perspective)**

_Ralton, Georgia  
_

_United States of America_

_Earth_

_2007_

_The sun was shining in Ralton, Georgia. Twelve year old Miguel Gears sat down at the table with his father, Sergeant Major Alan Gears. It was a hot summer day with the cool wind blowing through the trees. Alan was a tall tanned fair-cream skinned man with short-cropped dark brown hair. He wore civilian clothes. _

_"So, Pop?" Miguel asked. His father was reading the paper as Miguel worked on painting his Space Marine figures desert tan. Satisfied upon finished painting his last figure, he set it down with the rest of its squad. The table was almost covered by an entire army of mini figures. There was a Command Squad of Space Marines for an HQ choice, eight Tactical squads, one Devastator and Assault squad, plus a Dedicated Rhino transport, a Predator Battle Tank, and a Venerable Dreadnought, plus a Land Raider. Each squad consisted of ten figures, save for the Command Squad. _

_Miguel grinned and leaned back in his chair. _

_"Hey, _Papi_! What do you think?" Miguel asked. Alan looked up from his paper and blinked. He set aside his paper and walked around to look at Miguel's handiwork. He smiled. _

_"Nice work, buddy!" Miguel smiled, satisfied at his father's praise. Alan inspected one miniature. _

_"Is that the globe and anchor I see on their pads?" _

_"_Si, Papi!_"__ Miguel said with the machismo of a prideful Marine fanatic. _

_"Nice work." Alan said, tousling Miguel's hair as he looked down at him. _

_"So, it's a new regiment of Space Marines?" _

_"A Chapter, yeah." _  
_"What will you call them?" _

_"The Imperial-" The door opened and Diego walked in. _

_"Alan, someone is asking for you on the phone."_ _There was a pit in Miguel's stomach. Something wasn't right. Alan put the figure down and walked inside. Miguel followed him. Alan went to the house phone that lay on the counter. _

_"Gears Residence," Alan tensed and answered firmly. _

_"Sergeant Major Alan Gears speaking, sir." A few seconds later. _

_"Understood,"Alan said. Miguel's heart dropped. Deployment? Dad was getting deployed? Alan hung up the phone and sighed as he looked at Miguel. Diego stood beside Miguel and put his hands on Miguel's shoulders.  
_

_"I've got some news, guys. Looks like my leave just got cancelled. The Corps wants me." Dad said. A tear fell down Miguel's right eye as he looked at his father. _

_XX__X_

Miguel snapped out of the flashback. More than once he found himself missing his old home. He missed going to the hobby shop everyday, the taste of a fast food burger, and more. reminiscing about home brought him back to that night with _abuelo_... and that stupid fight. Miguel regretted every word that he had said to _abuelo_ Diego. Miguel wished that if he were back home, he would have apologized to _abuelo_ and make up for it if this was a dream. But it wasn't a dream. It was real. Everything here was real. And that was what pained him: He was probably stuck here... for the rest of his life.

Being in this universe was starting to give him a new perspective on things. He now knew what every recruit in Marine Corps training felt as well as neophytes in the Astartes training regimens. Life in this supposed game universe wasn't easy, he knew. There would be blood, sweat, and tears to the end. And it wouldn't be so easy as to roll the dice and have an outcome decided.

It wasn't always about physical training. The Sergeant would often give lectures about the Ultramarines doctrines. He would teach them the basics of fighting in the Astartes way, specifically, how Ultramarines fought as decreed by Roboute Gulliman himself. Miguel appreciated the Ultramarines' way of fighting. It was well-organized and structured. Of course, the training and the lectures would sometimes combine.

Today, they were learning hand to hand combat. Miguel faced his opponent. He was a small boy with olive oil skin. He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Miguel and his opponent were not alone. There were one-on-one duels around the training field.

The sun shone down upon the valley that the company had recently went to. It was a large valley with several rocky outcroppings, fields, caves, and a small lake. It seemed paradise to some, but alien to others raised in the underground cities of Calth.

"I'm going to beat you to a pulp, you bastard!" A voice interrupted his appreciation of the beautiful land. Miguel shook his head. This kid was making himself look like an arrogant asshole. God help this kid through the training... if he was lucky enough to survive the implants.

"You're just making yourself look like an ass, kid. No taunting before a match." Miguel said. The boy charged, yelling. Miguel smirked as he sidestepped and tripped the kid from under his feet.

"You're an Ultramarine neophyte, not a little girl. Come on, the Legion wants more than that, kid!" Miguel taunted. The boy got up and charged again, punching. Miguel made the Ultramarines fighting stance and used his height to his advantage. He pushed the boy away and round-house kicked him in the ribs. The boy fell.

"Put up a better fight, I dare you." Miguel said. The boy glared at Miguel.

"If you want to prove to me that you've got what it takes, then prove it! Right here, right now!" Miguel said. The boy got up again and then began flailing punches. Miguel blocked everyone. Miguel then caught one of his fists, twisted the boy's arm and then pushed him back.

"You're feisty, I'll give you that. But it'll take more than that to put me down." Miguel said, taunting the boy. Miguel then felt a presence behind him.

"Oh really? How about this!" A familiar voice said. Miguel felt himself be lifted up by the collar of his tunic and then thrown God-knows-how-many feet towards the nearby lake. Miguel crashed into it, swearing as he swam.

_"Santo Merde!"_ Miguel said, treading the surface. Miguel saw the outline of the boys as they stopped fighting. A sound reached him. It was laughter. Sergeant Holstus stood there at the shore with a grin.

"Just because you're the tallest neophyte doesn't mean excrement to me, boy! It'll take more than what you've got to become an Astartes"

_'Screw the Ultrasmurfs up the ass!'_ Miguel thought furiously as he swam back to shore. Damn training, damn these neophytes... and God damn Sergeant Holstus, the tricky bastard!

XXX

Sergeant Arcius Holstus smiled as the oldest Neophyte in his company returned to shore, tired and sore. He turned back to the novices

"Get back to sparring, Novices! When I'm done with you, you'll wish that you had spent your life doing something meaningful!" He turned to Miguel

"Get back to training, novice. When I'm done with you, boy, you'll wish that you never made another empty boast in your pathetic life!"

"Aye, Sergeant." said Ghears, as he was known to the 501st Neophyte Training Company. He hustled over to the olive-skinned boy, Tullius Nicus, and began sparring with him again. This time, there was no taunts. Holstus chuckled to himself. That boy thought he knew everything about training and was rarely yapping. But when it was, it was either during the lectures as a question or a questionable answer. He looked sharp though, like some of his other classmates. The boy was... different. That much was certain.

He had known about Miguel's condition... how in Terra's name was that possible? He pitied the poor lad. He would be in pain for some time. He shook his head.

"As we are Ultramarines, what is our battle cry?" There was no reply as the boys sparred.

"Our cry is 'Courage and Honor', lads! I want to hear that from your pie-holes!"

"Courage and Honor!" A few yelled.

"What was that? I cannot hear you!"  
_"Courage and Honor!"  
"What?"  
"Courage and Honor!" _

_"That's more like it, boys!" _

XXX

(Later on the same day)

Miguel woke up from his dreamless sleep as he felt his stomach grumble. In the cold darkness of the night, he looked up under the stars the grumbling began to become... violent. He started to feel a hot pain in his chest. It started to spread throughout his body. Within seconds his whole body was becoming hurt. Miguel writhed in agony, confused about what was going on and thinking that he was going to die. Miguel's body shook in pain as he screamed in agony. Moments later, he began to violently throw up. The stench of his bile and his screams would wake the rest of the Company with curses, jeers, and taunts throughout the night.

About an hour later, the pain subsided, and Miguel, covered in his own bile mixed with his blood, lay in a curled up fetal position wondering what had just happened and if he would ever feel that terrible sensation again.

XXX

The Emperor sent summons to all eighteen of His sons. Those closest arrived within a matter of weeks. Others arrived within months. The conference was held aboard the _Pax Imperium _and was to hold no envoys, but the Primarchs entire system that the 1st Imperial Expeditionary Fleet occupied was soon overrun with ships from other fleets, especially the flagships of the Primarchs and their escort vessels.

Despite their protests, all the Primarchs' honor guards were to wait outside the conference room, much to their dismay, including the Custodes. The Honor Guards were left outside to either mingle or ignore eachothers' presence.

Inside the conference room, the Emperor sat at the head of the table, looking upon all of His sons. The Primarchs divided into several groups. One group included Horus, Pertuabo, Alpharius, Angron, Lorgar, Fulgrim, and Mortarion. A group consisted of Corax, Gulliman, Sanguinus, Jonson, Vulkan, Ferrus Manus, and Rogal. The last group consisted of Khan, and Russ. Finally, there was poor Magnus and Konrad Kurze... all alone. Of course, this was when standing. At the table, all sat next to each other, despite their personal preferences. The rivalries and alliances were clear, even to the Emperor. This was troublesome as the Emperor did not want to have any fractures in this family or among his generals.

"Welcome... my sons!" The Emperor began as he stood.

"Today, we are here to discuss something of importance. We are here to discuss the training of your lost brother: Miguel Gears." There was shock around the table, save that of Alpharius."

"He is our brother, Father? Why wasn't I informed?" Gulliman asked.

"Because you did not need to know until the proper time, Roboute." Alpharius responded. Roboute glared at Alpharius.

"Who found him, milord? What does Miguel look like?" Sanguinus asked.

"I found him," Alpharius said. He described Miguel.

"He's _that_ short?" Leman asked.

"He mutated while he was away from us,"

"That is the case, or his genetic engineering has not been jump started."

"He's training in my Legion now," Gulliman said.

"Does he know of his heritage?" Horus asked.

The Emperor shook his head.

"No, and he will not know until the right time."

"I say let the boy know! He's been away from us for more than a century! Why haven't we found him before?!" Angron bellowed.

"I-I do not know Angron. I had no idea that he still existed until five months ago when Alpharius told me of what he had found," The Emperor said after pausing. He neglected to tell them of what Alpharius had also discovered.

"How is he in terms of combat?"

"He's a muscular human, but he's been just that for most of his life. His organs are mutating into standard implants for some reason. It's a slow and painful process for him."

"Great! A mutant for a brother!"

"Your brother is special, Angron. Do net forget the sight of that."

"What else can he do?"

"He's a bit of a strategist," Alpharius said.

"So, Gulliman gets to take all the credit for training him?"

"Yes and no, actually." The Emperor smiled.

"You will all train him. I asked Gulliman to create a training regimen for him and plan it all out."

Gulliman produced a set of papers as he spoke and passed them around.

"Thank you, Father. I seem to think that Miguel has the potential to become like one of us in terms of combat and strategy. First, he will train in my Legion and graduate. I plan on having each of us train him for about ten years each, that would be one hundred and eighty years."

"Wonderful, I'm stuck with a mutated abomination of a little brother for ten years!" Angron muttered bitterly.

"I also plan for him to serve in the four roles: Tactical, Assault, Devastator, and Terminator to better understand their functions and how they support the Legion in 'tours'. With luck, his talent in one area shall arise." Gulliman said.

"An excellent idea, Gulliman." Horus said, begrudgingly.

"Should we tell the Legions about this as well as the rest of the Imperium?" Horus asked.

"No, not yet. First, he must train and serve under you all. Once the time is right, then we shall announce his true existence." The Emperor said.

"Who shall train him next?" Sanguinus asked.

"I shall decide that once Miguel becomes a Space Marine. After he serves in the Ultramarines for ten years, he shall be transferred to that selected Legion immediately and without hesitation." The Emperor said.

"It will be hard for you all to take your brother in as one of your own Astartes, but understand that you are training him in your ways. You are helping him to better understand how the Legions work and how best to serve humanity." Sanguinus smiled at that.

"So, he will be getting special treatment?" Angron asked.

"Miguel will be..." The Emperor thought for a moment.

"You are to treat him as one of your own sons. But, I ask you this: Do not harm him ... unnecessarily." The Emperor said. Angron grinned.

"Is Miguel aware of his true heritage?" Horus asked.

"No, not yet. I told him that he was Astartes material."

"When shall you or we tell him?"

"When he is old enough and ready, Horus."

"How old is he?" Leman asked.

"Eighteen years old,"

"Eighteen? When I was his age, I had already discovered you , Father." Magnus said.

"Perhaps, but remember, he has no idea of his real heritage and has lived... differently than you all."

"So, are there any objections to the proposal by Roboute?" The Emperor asked looking around.

"I object to the several years Miguel has to spend with each Legion. I say... fifty, possibly."

"I agree with you, Fulgrim. But, the Crusade may not last as long as we think it will. It shall be ten."

"Shall we have to train him the ways of our Legions as well, Father?" Vulkan asked. The Emperor nodded.

"Yes, you will. However, once he has left the Neophyte stage, you will have to train him as an Astartes, not an aspirant."

"There are some unforeseeable events in the Crusade, Fulgrim. I'm afraid it'll be ten years per Legion." The Emperor said.

"It sounds... unreasonable. But, then again, who can say what may happen?" Horus admitted.

"I, for one, look forward to meeting him, Father. He sounds like he would be a good 'addition' to the Legions."

"We'll have to see about that, Sanguinus." Angron said.

After that, the meeting adjourned. The Primarchs and the Emperor returned to their respective Honor Guards. As they went back to their respective flagships, the honor guards noticed that their Primarchs were either more positive than usual or fouler in mood.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**(Author's Note: As this is set during the Great Crusade! I am asking for your opinion on what enemies that Miguel should fight in the next few chapters. What shall they be? Secret Chaos cultists? Human rebels? Weird unheard-of alien species? Eldar? Orks? Also, please review as your reviews are very uplifting! Thanks!) **

_Neotokyo_

_138.M31_

Eight years had passed since that night. Miguel had learned many important lessons in that time. But the other neophytes... they still hated him. The pains were becoming more intense and frequent. They would even come while he was training. More than once, Miguel thought that he would die in training, just one more person to add to the fatal statistics of failure in training to become a Space Marine. Surprisingly, he would live through the nightmarish hell. Why, he didn't know.

More than once, he would think about home and wish that he was back in his hometown, living with _abuelo_. But, he knew that there was a slim chance that he could go back to his home reality. Miguel then would often think about the days that his father was still alive.

Miguel's growth in terms of height was slower than the others, he noticed. He also noticed that his strength was increasing very slowly as well as speed. His hearing was also becoming better as well as the other senses. Miguel would often wonder if his implants were defective or flawed somehow. Every now and then, the Company would go to the nearby outpost for tests and implantation, as well as hypnotherapy.

Miguel had developed a sort of photographic memory, noticing certain details. It was still seemed new to him, but he was slowly getting better at it. The techpriests told him that his implants were slower than the rest. He had become more resistant and tolerant to pain. He could run farther distances than he had before the training. His muscles were becoming more defined and bigger than ever. His abs had disappeared.

Holstus would often give lectures as they trained. Sometimes they would rest and he would teach them Imperial doctrines, such as the Imperial Truth, as well as the Emperor's vision of a united prosperous humanity protected by the Legionnes Astartes. The Great Crusade sounded like a grand plan, and it really was. Miguel admitted that the Emperor was a good leader, but personally, discouraging religion was a bit much. Humanity needed to believe in something that was greater than themselves. Sure, there were conflicts between religious or ethnic differences, but the variety of religions and ethnicities was what made humanity special in Miguel's perspective. Then again, the Emperor was trying to secretly curb humanity's more violent tendencies and prevent humanity's fall to Chaos.

They had practiced with wooden practice swords. They practiced swordplay and certain techniques. Miguel did not quickly master it, but he was starting to remember how to block certain actions by his opponent. Often, Holstus would shout at one of the novices to train harder.

Miguel parried Nicus's blow.

"You're slow, Ghears. Speed up a bit more, old man!"

"Shut it, Nicus!" Miguel retorted. He stepped forward and struck. Too late, Nicus blocked the parry, then knocked Miguel from under his legs. He aimed the sword at Miguel's throat.

"You're defective, Mikhael. Admit it. You won't survive another day."Nicus taunted.

"I've lived through it this far... who knows-" Miguel smirked as he knocked Nicus from under his feet, got up and kicked Nicus in the balls, who howled.

"I might even be a Space Marine,"

"Ghears! Do I have to throw your arse back into the lake again?!" Holstus yelled from the hill. Miguel winced.  
"No, Sergeant!"

"Then help Nicus up and practice again!" Miguel offered Nicus a hand, who took it. They both went into a ready action. The smell of sweat was rampant through the air.

Nicus began to furiously attack Miguel, who struggled to parry each strike. Miguel was slower than the others, everyone knew. That made him a prime target. Nicus attacked with a fury. He struck Miguel on the head.

"Ow!" Miguel winced. He decided not to block Nicus's next attack and struck at Nicus's side with all his might. Nicus blocked it easily. He grinned.

"Nice try, weakling." He said. Miguel gritted his teeth. He began to attack furiously and with all his strength. Nicus blocked easily. He stepped backward as Miguel tried to swipe Nicus. Nicus jumped when Miguel tried to knock Nicus's feet under him. He struck Miguel in the face.

"Too slow!" Nicus taunted. He was learning, damn him! As Miguel tried to land a blow on Nicus, he heard a sound. He stopped as something flew over his head with a roaring sound. Miguel looked up to see a blue Stormbird fly over the valley and vanish over the ridgeline. Many times, a Stormbird or Thunderhawk would fly over the ridge the company would stay in. But, the way that Stormbird flew reminded him of...

XXX  
_The C-130 flew over their heads. Miguel watched with fascinated interest as it flew away from Quantico Marine Base and off into the distance. It grew smaller until it was seen no more. The sky was dawn blue. Miguel's hand went into his pocket where a Space Marine figure's presence was felt. He brought it out and looked at it. It stood in a battle-ready stance and aimed its bolter at some unseen target. Alan was in his Marine Corps Utility Uniform (MCUU), slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. _

_"How long will you be gone this time, _papi_?" _

_"Deployments are usually twelve months or more, you know that, Miguel." Alan said, paternally. Miguel nodded. He sighed. _

_"I wish that you didn't have to go, _papi_."_

_"So do I, but we go where the Corps tells us to go where it needs us." Alan said. Miguel looked down disappointed._

_"Hey, cheer up!" Alan said, lifting his son's chin._

_"You'll be able to call me while I'm over there. You can tell me about your games. And when I get back, maybe you could teach me how to play?"_

_Miguel's face brightened._

_"Deal!" He said. Alan smiled._

_"I love you, son. I want you to be good for Grandpa Diego while I'm gone, okay?"_

_"Si, papi." Miguel said, obediently. Alan turned away to join a gathering group of Marines._  
_"_Papi_? Wait," Miguel said, producing his figure. Alan stopped and turned around. He walked up to Alan and held out the figure._

_"I want you to have this, pop." Alan blinked._

_"Wouldn't you be one guy short?"_

_"Yeah, well. My squad can handle a detacment." Miguel smiled. Alan chuckled as he took it._  
_"I'll keep him safe for you when I get back." Alan said. He hugged his son._

_"I love you,"_

_"I love you too. Please be safe, _papi_." Miguel said. Alan pulled back and nodded. _

_"I'll see you in six months, son." Alan said, walking away after putting the figure in his pocket. Diego put a hand on Miguel's shoulder. _

_"We shall pray for his safety," Diego said. Miguel nodded. _

_"Semper Fi, Dad." Miguel said quietly as the group of Marines and his father disappeared behind the gate._

XXX

Miguel felt something behind him. He clutched his wooden sword and spun with a fury, raising his sword high.

_"Godammit Nicus!"_ Miguel roared in anger and struck down on whatever was in front of him. The sword broke on impact with a Mark III chest plate. Miguel froze and looked up to see Holstus raise an eyebrow.

"Seriously, boy?" He asked. Before Miguel could apologize, he was picked up by the collar of his tunic and then thrown into the lake. He crashed closer to the shore this time, probably due to his increase in weight. Miguel sighed angrily as he swam back to shore, swearing. Nicus's laugh was heard far out to here.

"Better luck next time!"

"Nicus! One day, your bitch ass will be mine!" Miguel said in English. He then went back to sparring with Nicus, this time with a fury.

As he was in the middle of another strike, he felt weak in the knees and fell over on his side, wincing. His chest began to hurt. Bile was rising up his throat and Miguel threw up on Nicus's feet. Nicus stepped back with disgust. Miguel's body began to hurt everywhere. He screamed in agony as his body began to have intense pain. He struggled to get up, but found that he didn't have the strength. The pain was becoming too intense. Miguel felt a presence over him. Holstus stood over him.

"Sorry, Sergeant Holstus."

"You have had these pain episodes for eight Standard years now. By all rights, I believe you should be dead from them." Holstus said. Miguel nodded, sheepishly.

"Get up and practice again. Should this happen again... do me a favor and fight through the pain. You are becoming a Space Marine, Ghears. And Space Marines know pain, but endure it... just as you should have."

"Aye, Sergeant." Miguel said, standing up. His muscles were sore.

"And don't you ever go standing around doing nothing, you hear?"

"Aye, Sergeant."

"Good, now get back to sparring with Nicus. And you had better hope that you will be faster this time!" Holstus said.

Miguel nodded and went back to sparring with Nicus, this time with a bit more aggression. Miguel would be beaten again and again, but still he endured his beatings and did his best to defeat Nicus.

XXX

_(4 weeks later)_

"Let me show you all something," Holstus said one day after they had practiced swordplay. The neophytes had gathered around Holstus. Holstus produced his bolt pistol.  
"Someday, each of you will receive this... should you survive your training and not fail." Holstus said.  
"This is a standard issue bolt pistol, issued to every Astartes. You may receive other wargear as you rise through the ranks or as you go into different roles in the Legions, such as Tactical, Assault, Devastator, and Terminator." Holstus said.

"Today, we will be practicing with live fire arms. You will learn about the basic weapons of the Legionnes Astartes." Last night groups of crates were carried here by Thunderhawk and a practice range had been set up by the lake.

"You will learn how to clean, fire, reload and maintain a bolter and its sister firearms." Holstus said. He opened a crate with one finger and produced a bolt pistol.

"First, however, you will learn how to use something simple, like a bolt pistol. Start getting them from the crates. Then, go over to the range and fire them." Miguel went over to the crates with his fellow aspirants and picked up a bolt pistol. Miguel inspected it. The game didn't do it justice. It was a heavy, bulky thing. It already had an ammo clip in it.

"How many shots do these things have, Sergeant?" Miguel asked.

"The standard pistol has fifteen rounds," Holstus replied. Miguel felt awe at holding this weapon. He had never expected to actually use it in his lifetime, much less see it. He shook off the feeling of awe and went to the firing range. Once they had all assembled at the firing range and had some distance between eachother, each aspirant aimed at their targets. Miguel had to guess that each target was probably fifty meters away from the aspirant line.

"On my command, you will all fire at your targets and only keep your eyes on the target! Do not look away as you fire or your sorry arse will be tossed into the lake!"Holstus yelled. Miguel did so. They all took up a firing position: feet spread and aimed their guns at eye level. Miguel had experience firing pistols back home with his father. Only, they were airsoft guns back then.

"Fire at will!" Holstus yelled.

Miguel fired at his target slowly at first. Then, he fired faster. Before he fired the last shot, Nicus had the nerve to do something incredibly stupid.

"I bet you won't hit the target at all, Ghears!" Miguel glared at Nicus and he lowered his gun a little as he fired the last shot in his clip.

"Damn it, Ghears! I told you to not look away! Do you want to hit a fellow Astartes and kill him during a battle?!" Holstus yelled. Miguel jumped and looked at the target. From what he saw, some of the rounds hit the upper body of his target... but the last one perfectly hit the target in the bullseye. Miguel blinked and then smiled like an idiot.

"What are you smiling at, you idiot?!" Holstus bellowed. Miguel turned to see Holstus right in front of him.

"I hit the bullseye, Sarge!" Holstus peered over Miguel and blinked.

"Few ever hit their targets the first time they fire a gun, but there are those that can get a perfect shot in the first clip..." Holstus said, turning back to Miguel. He sighed.

"You're spared being thrown into the lake this time, Miguel." He grinned.

"Give me your pistol," Miguel made sure the bolt pistol had its safety on and gave it to Holstus's palm. Holstus turned to the lake. Holstus tossed the gun into the water. Miguel swore. He knew the punishment now. Holstus turned to Ghears.

"Go get it,"

XXX

Over the next two years Miguel developed a fascination with the Astartes weapons that he trained with. He loved the boltgun. It was a bulky weapon, but it packed a lot of firepower once fired. The rounds were the size of a man's fist for crying out loud! The storm bolter was a complex weapon. Two barrels on one gun drastically reduced the clips, but the rate of fire was good, if you didn't miss. The heavy bolter was what it sounded, but its rate of fire provided great suppression on infantry. The same could be said for the missile launcher and vehicles. Plasma weapons made Miguel queasy. They had the potential to overheat and possibly explode on you if you weren't careful. Power weapons were beautifully dangerous if they were in the wrong hands. Miguel preferred the powersword than the chainsword because the vibrations of the weapon during combat didn't feel would learn more about weapons and tactics throughout the last years of his training. But graduation from training was the one thing that he looked forward to.


End file.
